


An Abject Lesson in Tending to Broken Wings

by AVMabs



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Canon Compliant, Childbirth, F/M, Family, Fear, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Blood, Post-Canon, Post-Natal Fun, or more accurately, the writing equivalent of a doodle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 22:03:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10228469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVMabs/pseuds/AVMabs
Summary: Ed isn't used to being passive in life-threatening situations.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! A quick few warnings here for mentions of blood and traumatic childbirth, but this fic is mostly just Edward Elric being filled with wonder.

Ed remembers a bird that once landed on his windowsill when he was a kid.  It was a small, sad thing, chirping very weakly.  It died a few hours later.  As he holds the baby in his arms and listens to its high-pitched keens, he thinks of that bird, and the way it had died in his cupped hands.

“There’s something wrong,” he says, his voice quivering more than he would like.

Winry, who is still losing blood, turns her head toward him and lets out a quiet moan.  Ed almost grabs her hand, but then he remembers the baby in his arms, and how he doesn’t remember how to hold a baby with one arm.  He thinks it should be like riding a bicycle – and it probably _is_ – but he’s too scared to do anything but clutch at their second.

“I’ll be with you in a minute, Ed,” says Granny.  It comforts Ed a little, because it’s Granny, and she’s there. 

“Okay,” says Ed, and swaddles the baby closer to him, because this one is not as warm as their Robbie had been, and not as big and not as strong.  He hopes Granny will be with them very, very soon.  He is scared – for the baby, and for Winry.

It’s almost as though Winry reads his mind: the muscles around her eyes and forehead relax some, and Granny straightens up.  “I need you to stay still for me, Winry.  I’ll do your stitches in a moment.”  She strides over to Ed and takes the baby from him.  Soft downy hairs tickle his arm as she pulls it away.

“Will she be okay?” asks Ed, wide eyed and out of his depth.

Granny barely glances up at him.  “She’s stable,” she says, and then presses her ear to the baby’s chest.  “Right,” she says grimly.  “There’s definitely a rattle there.”

Ed’s heart races.  He can tell it’s bad, but he doesn’t _know_ medicine, and he doesn’t know what a rattle means.  He wants to cry, wants to take Granny by the arms and scream at her to make things okay, but the lump in his throat remains a lump and his brain can’t quite communicate with the rest of his body.

“Ed!” snaps Granny.  “Snap out of it and hold her upright for me.”

Machine-like, Ed acquiesces, holding the baby in place lest he drop it, and then everything would be over.  He watches, only vaguely processing, as Granny pulls on a new glove and places her first two fingers together.

Moments later, he flinches as her fingers tap firmly against the baby’s back.  For a moment, the baby seems to choke.  Everything stops, and Granny is wiping away at the baby’s mouth and nose, and for a second, Ed thinks that the baby has died, that eight-and-a-half months of caution have been for nothing.

He is already weeping, he realises.

And then Granny whispers “there we are” to herself, and Ed gets ready to scream and yell and throw a fit at her for being so _calm_ – but the baby is breathing.

It sucks in air, and then begins to cry again.  It sounds stronger now, not so high or so breathy.  Ed sobs.  Granny squeezes his wrist.

“Just a little fluid in her bronchial tubes – nothing to worry about now.”

For the first time, Ed takes in the _her_ , and it seems that Winry does, too, as she turns her head towards them and says drowsily: “it’s a girl?”

Ed blinks at her, unsure of what to do or say, and ever so ecstatic. 

“Yes,” says Granny.  “Well done, Winry.”  She turns to Ed.  “Well done to you, too.  You saved a life.”

Ed almost crumbles into a fresh wave of sobs, but Granny waves a hand at him.  “None of that.  I have a cervix to stitch up, and I certainly don’t need you bawling whilst I do it.”

Ed wrinkles his nose, and looks down at the baby doing the same as she yawns.  He smiles.   

He smiles.


End file.
